


Sleep Better With You

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean Winchester / Female Reader - Freeform, Dean Winchester One Shot, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Reader, Female Reader one shot, Fluff, Hurt / Comfort, hurt!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4860188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader request - Dean moans reader's name in his. Dean Winchester x Female Reader explicit sexual content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleep Better With You

Dean fell asleep an hour after you slipped three crushed Vicodin in his half-empty, piss warm beer. You only knew it was piss warm because the injured hunter had yelled at you for not getting him a cold one before throwing the bottle at the trash. 

 

_The bottle rolled into the bathroom. “Nice one, Dean.”_

_“Bite me.”_

 

The thought was tempting, you weren’t gonna lie, but the truth was you knew he saw you like the kid sister he never wanted. And you knew that because he has told you more times than you cared to remember. That didn’t stop you from watching him out of the corner of your eye every chance you got. The man had shoulders as wide as a door frame and corded muscles that rippled under his skin. He stood on thick legs that were good for fighting, defending himself from every monster imaginable, and running either to or from danger; although he was more likely to run toward it. Years of turning a wrench, digging up graves, and ganking monsters had sure as hell done a body good.

 

But not tonight. Tonight, the poltergeist that was tormenting a family had gotten the better of him. Tonight, the poltergeist had gone on the defense and blitz attacked him. Dean fought hard, harder than most hunters, finally taking the _piece of shit out_ , but not before the damage had been done; a gash on the back of his head and bruises that disappeared beneath his heather grey Henley.

 

Three stitches, a bucket of ice, and three secretly taken Vicodin later, Dean was finally asleep. He was sprawled out on the queen sized mattress, one arm hanging over the edge and both feet dangling off the other side. He snored softly as you tugged off his boots and lifted his thick, heavy legs onto the bed. The lamp cast its dull orange light across his face, highlighting the fan of thick lashes over freckled skin, and it took everything in you not to reach out and count his freckles.

 

Instead, you turned off the light and turned away, mentally preparing yourself to sleep on the couch. There had been only one room available when you checked in and as luck would have it, it had only one bed.

 

Dean shifted, sighing heavily as his hand flexed, grabbing at your denim clad legs. You stayed still for a moment, afraid of waking him. When he didn’t let go of your jeans, you scraped your nails gently through his hair, trying to get his attention just enough so he’d let go. What he did next, you didn’t expect.

 

Half-opened, glassy, emerald eyes stared up at you and a smirk tugged at his fuller than humanly possible lips. He tugged hard on your jeans before whispering your name.

 

You had to be imagining things because he wouldn’t say your name like that or try to sit up and ask you to lie with him. It had to be the Vicodin. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you raked your nails through his hair, careful to avoid the fresh wound.

 

“Dean, just lie down and go to sleep.” You fought the urge to call him baby.

 

Leaning into your touch, he latched a hand on your hip and tugged impatiently. Despite the fact that he was drugged and half-asleep, he was so much stronger than you. “I’ll sleep better with you next to me. C’mon, Y/N, please.” The oldest Winchester hardly ever said please.

 

Against your better judgement, you kicked off your shoes and slid in next to the hunter. He covered you with the blanket, wrapped an arm around your belly, and pulled you tight against him. Rough, calloused fingers found their way under the hem of your shirt as he curled around you, legs tucked behind yours, ankles crossed together. Wherever you ended, a part of Dean began. With a contented sigh, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and in no time his breathing slowed, blowing hot and heavy against your skin as he slept.

 

It took you longer to fall asleep, but that probably had something to do with the fact that your fingers played over his forearm or that if you turned your head just right, his slightly parted lips were _right fucking there_. You lay there, watching him sleep, _feeling_ him sleep for hours until finally, your eyelids grew too heavy. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and steady breathing lulled you to sleep.


	2. In The Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idea for the title came from a song of the same name by the group Dead By Sunrise. I highly suggest listening to it, but I’ll leave that up to you. The first part is told from Dean’s POV. After the break, it’s back to the reader. y/c/eyes = your color eyes.

_([In The Darkness](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQfY8CaJ_Zo))_

For hours, Dean watched her sleep. Y/N had rolled to her other side, tangled their legs together, and draped an arm around his waist, murmuring something he couldn’t quite understand. That’s what woke him up. The room was pitch, save for a sliver of moonlight that fell against her cheekbone. The longer he lay there, holding her tight and breathing in the remnants of the lavender shampoo he teased her mercilessly about, the more of her he could see.

 

Y/N’s lips parted slightly as she breathed, her tongue playing over the bottom row of teeth, and y/c/eyes moving rapidly behind closed lids. The deep wrinkle that formed between her eyebrows when she was deep in thought or frustrated made an appearance. She twitched hard against Dean, grabbing at the small of his back and whimpered softly. She had been plagued by nightmares ever since John rescued her from a ghoul that ripped apart her family, traveling with them ever since.

 

It was hard for all of them, but harder for Dean. It was bad enough taking care of Sammy when John was away. Now he had to take care of two… younger siblings. And that’s exactly how he treated her, like the little sister he never wanted. She asked too many questions, repeatedly, was always bored when they were stashed in a motel, burying her nose in everyone else’s business; God, how he hated her.

 

Until the night Sam was given the ultimatum that changed their lives. Stay or go to Stanford. When Sam stormed out of the house, rattling the door on its hinges, everything changed. John, who was always a bit of a hard ass, became more demanding, expecting immediate results when sending Dean and Y/N out in the field. The hunts blurred together and they lost count of just how many small towns they drove through or shitty motels they stayed in. After that night, Y/N was different, quiet, reserved, always looking at Dean as if he knew all the answers to her unvoiced questions.

 

He gently rocked her, smoothed a hand over her head, and _shhhh’d_ quietly into her ear until the nightmare slithered back into its corner. It was there, in the darkness, watching her sleep and comforting her that he realized she meant more to him than just someone he took care of. She was more than family. She had become someone he cared for, and that thought should have scared him, but it didn’t.

 

Y/N shifted, groaning in a way he could tell that meant she was waking up, and in that moment he made up his mind. Caressing her jaw with the back of his hand, he pressed his lips to hers, and held his breath.

 

* * *

 

The ghoul that ate your mother alive ran away, whining low in its throat as a soothing sound erupted in your mind. You knew that sound. Familiarity brushed along your spine, but you couldn’t quite place it. Your surroundings shimmered as your heart rate slowed, shifting and changing from your childhood home to one of a million cheap motels.

 

You drew in a deep breath, pulling in leather and cinnamon, blood and earth, groaning as your subconscious began to wake. There was a brush of fingers along your jaw and then… no, you had to be imagining things. Your eyes flew open and there was Dean, eyes closed, holding his breath, and he was kissing you. With your heart hammering in your chest, you closed your eyes, and melted into the kiss.

 

A rush of hot air blasted against your lips as he let out the breath he was holding, carrying a moan along for the ride. You captured his bottom lip between yours, running your tongue over the ridges until he opened his mouth. The hand at your jaw moved to the back of your neck and tangled in your hair, angling your head as the kiss deepened. You pushed against him, suddenly greedy to feel every inch of him, it didn’t matter that you were both still clothed.

 

He grabbed your ass and pulled you roughly against him, grinding his very evident arousal against you. You dug your nails into the back of his neck and the both of you pulled back from the kiss. Your moan was one of arousal, his was of pain. You were digging into the bruises he received being thrown into the fireplace.

 

“Sorry!”

 

He wore a pinched expression as your grip loosened, rolling his neck once your hands came to rest on his chest. “It’s ok.”

 

Watching him as he stretched his neck, you fought the urge to lick it, to feel the sandpaper stubble against your tongue. Instead, you leaned back, leaving your legs intertwined with his, and waited for him to look at you. When he did, you felt your cheeks flush. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you cleared your throat, hoping to keep the nerves out of your voice. “You kissed me.”

 

His hand was at the small of your back, fingers pushing into the ever present knot just above your tailbone. “I did. You kissed me back.”

 

“Yeah, I guess I did.” The weight of his gaze was beginning to be too much. Your stomach somersaulted as you played with the buttons on his Henley. “Why?”

 

Dipping his head, he brushed his nose against yours. “Why not, Y/N?”

 

Your eyes fell, which was a bad idea because you were staring at his mouth instead of his eyes. You didn’t know which was worse. You shrugged, self-doubt and every insecurity flooded through you. “Because… I’m... _me_.” As if that was all that needed to be said.

 

He captured your chin in between his thumb and forefinger until you met his gaze. The intensity of his eyes sucked the air out of your lungs. “Hey. There is _nothing_ wrong with you, you hear me?” When you shook your head in his grasp, he cupped your face and kissed you, hard and bruising until you couldn’t breathe.

 

With your hand on his chest, you pushed away and gasped for air. “Dean.” Green eyes snapped into focus as he hummed, running his thumb over your chin. “What’s this mean for us?”

 

“I’d like to think it means we’re together.”

 

“Is that… is that what you want?”

 

Dean kissed the corner of your mouth. “Hell yes.”

 

“Alright then.” You grabbed him by the back of the neck, and ignoring his grunt of pain, you kissed him so hard and so thoroughly, you knew that no other kiss would live up to this one.


	3. Lovers in the Backseat

You were both willing, but Dean wasn’t able. Not that he had a problem getting it up. Oh no, that wasn’t an issue what. So. Ever. It was the fact that he had a concussion and every time things progressed to _that point_ , he felt like he was going to pass out. So you waited. And you flirted. And you made out, _heavily._ You even made Sam storm out of the motel room, muttering under his breath about how he wished _you two could just fuck and get it over with._ Three days passed and you were wound so tight you felt like you were going to snap in half if you didn’t have an orgasm that wasn’t brought about by his rough and talented hands. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt.

 

So when he grabbed your waist and pulled you against him, grinding his arousal into your ass, it was clear he was feeling better. Your head fell back, landing on his shoulder, moaning obscenely as his fingers drug along your thighs, pushing up your burgundy skirt, and leaving dark red marks in their wake. Your hands fell to his, trying without success to stop their ascent. _Dean-_

 

He nipped your lobe, swirling his tongue around the soft flesh before he spoke. _I want you. Right here. Right now._ His heavy, throaty voice drove a shiver down your spine.

 

Right here consisted of the far edge of a parking lot outside the local police department where you had just finished interviewing the Sheriff. You were about to present your case of why you shouldn’t when his mouth found your pulse point at the exact same time that he pressed a hand between your legs, massaging your pussy through damp panties. Your legs just about gave out so you slapped your hands against the rear passenger door of the Impala. Using the sleek black car for leverage, you ground into Dean’s hand.

_That’s it, baby_. Hot peppermint breath blasted against your neck a second before his mouth was there, biting, licking, and sucking; his sandpaper chin rubbing your skin almost raw.

 

You swore crudely when two fingers entered you roughly. The thick line of his cock pushed against your ass as he worked against you, driving his fingers in and out, shoving the heel of his hand into your clit. There was nothing gentle about it. He wanted _to make you cum hard enough that your entire body would be sore_. Bastard got his wish. He crooked his fingers and stroked your g-spot over and over again until everything went white and the roar of blood in your ears was louder than the shout of his name.

 

Dean’s hand was gone, leaving you empty and shaking, whimpering, all but begging him not to stop. The door you were plastered against was quickly unlocked. _Get in and take off your panties._

 

You did as he all but commanded, slipping your shoes into the front seat as you went, and leaning back after balling up your suit jacket against the arm rest. Dean’s jacket was thrown into the front seat, landing on the steering wheel with a _swish_ of linen and silk. With one foot planted on the floor and the other on the headrest, you worked the skirt up and over your hips, giving him a nice view when he dropped into the car. His hands and mouth were on you, pinching, and squeezing, biting, licking, nipping, and sucking; doing everything he knew that would drive you to the edge.

 

He pressed his nose into your short curls and pulled in a deep and shuddering breath, moaning in the back of his throat. _Fuck, you smell so good baby._

 

You grabbed his hair, the short strands biting into your palm and under your fingernails. _Dean, please._

 

_Please, what?_ Deep, green eyes drilled into yours. He licked his lips before dropping his deliciously full lips to your clit, pulling it between his teeth and sucking hard enough you saw stars.

 

Your back arched off the smooth leather as you came in a rush of white heat that spread through every nerve like lava. _Fuck me!_

 

He released your clit and pressed his tongue flat against your slit, swallowing your slick with a _slurp_ and then, just as the orgasm began to ebb, two fingers thrust between your lips, followed quickly by his tongue. _Oh god, oh god, oh god._ He was grunting as he fucked you with his fingers and mouth, his nose teasing your aching clit. Too close to the last one, you came again. Everything hurt but in a _please don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop_ kind of way. And he didn’t stop. He kept going, working you through the pain that felt so good.

 

Blood roared in your ears, drowning out the slamming door, followed quickly by the clang of a belt buckle and zipper being forced down with one hand. You licked your lips, panting heavily, just starting to get your bearings when the unmistakable pressure of his cock was at your entrance. _Look at me._

 

 

Lust blown pupils left a strip of emerald and your slick shone on his nose and mouth in the fading sunlight. He worked his cock against you, dipping the head between your folds just enough to make you squirm until finally, he snapped his hips forward, driving into you hard enough that your ass squeaked on the seat. He hissed between his teeth, gripping at your hips with one hand while the other fell to the driver side head rest. You gasped at the intrusion, stretching to accommodate his sheer size of him. You pushed your head back, keening as he twitched. Grabbing his ass, you dug your nails into the taut muscles and thanks to many years of yoga, you were able to open your hips wider, drawing more of him in.

 

His head fell forward and shoulders slumped when his pelvis ground into yours. _Fuuuuuuck._

 

You sat up and captured his bottom lip between yours, tasted yourself on his lips and tongue, smelled yourself on his nose and stubble. He growled into the kiss. Driving his tongue into your mouth, he pulled back slowly, moaning into your mouth when he drove into you. Your hips snapped up, meeting him thrust for thrust, filling the car with a wet slap every time. It was getting too hard to breathe, so you tore your mouth from his and watched as he fucked you.

 

His mouth was hot on your neck as he marked you, grunting against your skin. With every thrust of his hips, his shoulders bowed. Surrounded by the smell of sex, leather, and sweat, the sounds of satisfied moans, and the wet slap of his balls on your ass, the coil in your belly snapped suddenly. You bit down on your lower lip until the skin tore apart and the bitter tang of copper on your tongue made you gasp. You quaked around him, urging him to follow you. _Come on, baby._

 

Your name fell from his lips like a curse when your hips snapped up unexpectedly. The stubble on his chin scraped your neck as he bore down, pounding you into the tacky leather until finally, with a shout, he came. The pulse of his cock drew one last orgasm from the depths of your belly, and you cried out as pain ate at the edges. His rhythm slowed, and even though it hurt, you craved more. Your legs fell away and when he kissed you slowly and thoroughly, your fingers worked at the back of his neck, digging into the sweat slicked skin.

 

His arms shook as he pulled back, leaving you empty and chilled as a breeze blew in the open windows. While he sat down and pulled his pants up, tucking his softening cock into the black boxer briefs, you adjusted your skirt, and sat up slowly, relishing in the ache you know you’d feeling for days. He opened the door and stood stiffly, stretching the tight muscles in his lower back before dropping a hand into the car and helping you out.

 

The gravel bit into your toes as you pushed up and kissed him, holding on to the silver tie. It slipped through your fingers as you began to walk backward to the police station. _Gotta clean up._ The silk lining of your skirt felt deliciously soft against your ass as you walked with a little extra swing.

_Just wait until later,_ he promised before getting behind the wheel and firing up the engine.

 

When you came out a minute later, he had pulled up next to the door and was swinging your panties around his index finger, smiling wickedly as you slid in next to him.


End file.
